Reign
by Ymirs
Summary: in which Levy is triumphant (as usual) [a small gajevy drabble]


The touch of a bruise shadows her lids, and when her eyes open once more he can see nothing but a sea of constellations, and does not remember having ever been so close to the sky before. From her throne upon his torso, she dips her head down low, and once more they submerge into the mind melting mannerisms of slow kisses and winding hips. A sharp white canine digs into cherry-red lips, and she leaves their glow imprinted upon his cheeks, one after another after another, claiming her territory over and over and over again. In the dark her brand burns bright, white-hot flames of passion disguised within costumes of heart-shaped prints. One day they may fade, but her mark on his soul is permanent. _You are mine_, they sing in her possessive cacophony. Her hair tumbles past her shoulders in rampant coils of blues and purples, and he catches the sweet scent of forget-me-nots as their tips brush over his nose.

"_How_ do you expect me to get these lipstick stains off?" Gajeel protests gruffly as she pauses for breath. He rubs at one of the marks with the corner of his hand, and it smudges messily along his cheekbone, leaving a carmine tint to his skin. "It's going to be _impossible_ if you keep doing that."

"That's fine," Levy responds cheerily, raising her head to admire her work. The lights were too dim to really appreciate her artistic talents, but the blemished tawny-red pattern of his face is more than enough of an indication of a job well done. "I think they make you look sexy." Quick as lightning, she pecks him again, right on the spot he had just been rubbing at. "You can keep them right there."

"Oi!"

He bats her away, and with a wicked giggle she defies him once more, painting his jawbone the colour of her lips. She leaves a variety of emotions upon his face; pouts, frowns, and smiles, 'o's of surprise and thin-lipped illustrations, and he complains all the while, muttering something to himself about mischievous little fairies.

"What was that?" she asks him, her ears perking up at the last pronouncement. She plays with his hair affectionately as she waits for an answer, twisting the black locks together into a long, thin plait, much to his displeasure.

"I was _saying_, mischievous little fairies like you need to be locked up," he grumbles, poking her nose upon pronouncing the last three words. It wrinkles beneath his touch, and she quickly shakes it away. "You're a menace - a danger to all society. No one's safe with you wandering around outside. _Especially_ not me."

"Oh, _really_?" Finished with her work on his hair, she finds more amusement in tracing patterns along the scars on his neck.

"I should turn you in," he continues. He swipes at her hands again, and she deftly avoids his grasp.

"You wouldn't dare," she retorts, enjoying how vexed he appeared.

"Oh, yes I would," he starts to protest, but she muffles his argument with her mouth, and soon he has forgotten what he was trying to say as her tongue grazes his teeth. The kiss deepens as she leans her body into his, and she wraps her arms securely around his neck, pulling herself further into the curve of his chest. "I'll do it," he finally manages to mutter between assaults, "you watch me," but it's hard to continue his train of thought when she's nibbling on the bottom of his lip like that.

"Are you _sure_?" Her words are tantalising, and so are her hips as they gyrate leisurely over his, moving along to the small, shallow kisses she leaves beneath his neck. Her hands are tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp with their maddening touch, and he has no hope of thinking clearly over all the sensations.

"…Maybe it can wait a day or two," he manages to grunt, with no small effort.

"Ha! I win!"

Raising her arms into the air in celebration of her victory, she allows herself to slide off of him and onto the mattress, where she immediately curls into his side. Crooning contentedly, she nestles into him and entwines her fingers into his. He wants to feign displeasure, but the sweet hum of her voice is simply too alluring to resist, so he slides his free arm around her shoulders instead. Closing his eyes, he absentmindedly caresses her waist, and the kisses upon his cheeks sigh in pleasure. This is not the first time she had defeated him so thoroughly, ending their battle in her triumphantly comfortable position by his side. It was merely another one of those occasions in which she had decided to prove her dominance in their relationship, her supremacy over his psyche. She took great delight in her reign over him, and he took great delight in her.

_You are mine._


End file.
